Hummiliation and Acceptance
by Stargirl888
Summary: Santana comes to accept a part of herself through the hummilation of obeying her Mistress. A sort of sequel to Secret Sessions , NC-17, Please note the Warnings Inside. One-shot!


**Title: **Humiliation and Acceptance

**Rating: **NC-17. 

**WARNINGS: NOT FOR UNDERAGE READERS! **VERY STRONG D/s AND S/m THEMES. PSYCOLOGICAL HUMILLIATION. VERY SMALL MENTIONS OF PUPPY PLAY AND ANAL (LIKE ONE SENTENCE). 

**Summary: **Santana comes to terms with her inner submissive when her Mistress makes her recount her ultimate fantasy.

**AN: **I cannot believe its been over 6 months since I posted something that wasn't in the Learning Lessons Verse! This was meant to just be pure smut then it turned into something else, then back to smut, then something else again...you'll see what I mean. It's a kind of continuation from Secret Sessions, though you don't have to read Secret Sessions first. Santana is a little more OOC than she was in that; but I'm going to blame that on how time has passed and Santana is not fighting submission as hard. Its also in a similar vein to Exhausted Pleasure. Please take the above warning seriously as I just cannot be bothered with the flames of people who can read everything but the warning label.

Enjoy

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"Santana." I hesitate, my hand pausing mid step. We're in a hallway full of people, and though I know no one could possibly know the significance of her using my name. I'm still irrationally terrified that someone would work it out. I don't turn around to face her; though I could feel her presence behind me as I remain frozen in place waiting to see what she wants.

"My place, 3 o'clock."

I turn around. "I have plans with-"

"My place, 3 o'clock." She repeats, cutting me off; an edge to her voice and glint in her eye that I was all too familiar with. Gritting my teeth and knowing I was not being given a choice I reluctantly dip my head in acknowledgment.

She turns on her heel and walks off without another word.

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I arrived at her house, 3pm on the dot and wearing sensible clothes in case she decided to have me run around the block again, as was one of her preferred methods of torment.

I knocked on the door and it opened immediately, as though she had been waiting on the other side. I shivered, wondering if I was somehow late, and what painful consequence she would inflict on me. Without a word she walked back inside as though I was not worthy of the time it would take to greet me. I felt my blood boil at her presumption to ignore me, an angry retort on my tongue, though I knew better than to voice it. It took me a second to realise she expected me to follow her in.

Once inside, and having shut the door my eyes adapted to the darker lighting of the foyer. In the dead centre of which a high backed wooden dining chair had been placed, facing away from the door. The object; clearly there to serve some as yet unknown purpose sent an irrational fear through me and almost made me bolt from the room – like seeing a mouse that you know wasn't really dangerous but still jumping on the table to get away from it.

"Clothes." The simple clear order is issued and I can feel her gaze boring into me as I undressed. Giving into the embarrassment I craved. With my shirt in my hands I hesitated, not sure if I was meant to put it on the chair or floor.

Snapping her fingers, she points to a spot in front and to the right of the chair to indicate where I should put it, like you would to get a dog to put down a ball so you could throw it for him. In a moment of rebellion I dropped the shirt to the floor beside me. The click of heels on the tiled floor was the only momentary warning I had before a slap echoed through the room, a stinging handprint to my cheek before she repeated the clicking gesture. I swallow my pride and blink back the tear that threatened to escape as I crouch to pick up the item and, keeping my head bowed, take it to the required place.

I removed the rest of my clothing, adding it to the pile and leaving me naked and vulnerable while she remains dressed.

"Sit." The order comes and I chance a glance up to find her resting her hand on the back of the chair, clearly indicating where I should sit. I do so, the cold polished wood hard against my skin as the sudden height difference between us only emphasises my inferiority. I could fight more and I used to; but if I've learnt nothing else from these 'sessions' its that Quinn will always get her way.

I can feel the blood rushing to my face as I momentarily recall all the past humiliations this woman has put me through, and the pleasure she's given me.

I can feel her looming over me, making me feel small, insignificant and exposed she just stands there in silence, letting me experience it. The ticking of the grandfather clock taunting me.

She takes a few steps back. I can hear her heels click and sense her moving. It's a strange mixture of relief and vulnerability that runs through me. Then she's still, quiet. I feel watched, but the room is quiet other to the ticking clock and though there's no where she could have gone to without crossing my line of sight or opening the front door and making a noise, but despite this, as time goes on I begin to doubt if she's still there.

The room is not exactly cold, but it's not quite warm enough to be comfortable naked; that along with the pile of clothes just out of arms reach further reminding me of my position. I shift slightly, the thick varnish on the wood sticking to my skin.

My mind is beginning to wonder, my impatient nature getting the best of me as I shift about. I sit there so long and get so lost in my thoughts I momentarily forgot that there was even someone in the room with me. This whole break from routine worried me; why she wasn't touching me, teasing me, punishing me. I had been mentally preparing the whole way over and now she was just making me sit here. She breaks the silence, startling me.

"Spread your legs." I follow the order, relieved that she was finally going to do something. "I want you to think of you deepest, most sordid fantasy." My mind immediately springs to it. It's like telling someone not to think of pink elephants. I resist the urge to close my legs. I can feel myself involuntarily getting wet. She walks around so she in front of me; though there's about two meters between us, her shoes just in my eyesight as I gaze at the floor. "Now spread yourself so I can see just how wet you are, but don't you dare touch your clit."

I do as commanded, and fight the urge to cry. After all the things she's done to me, all the times she's seen me as a whimpering, begging mess, sitting here, holding the folds of flesh apart and exposing myself to her while my darkest fantasies run through my mind and make my clit swell and pussy clench around nothing, trying unsuccessfully to get some stimulation, was somehow worse. I'm pretty sure that walking through school naked would be less humiliating. I want to cover myself up, crawl under a blanket and never come out again. My clothes are sitting there, tormenting me with the knowledge of just how close and how far away their comfort is, just out of reach with only my own will power stopping me from getting up to grab them. I actually wish she had tied me down, because knowing that I was willingly forcing myself through this made it worse. But I do as I'm told; I sit there spread wide and wait. The cool air caresses my clit that begs for attention, demands it but I deny it, not wanting to fail her; or myself.

"Tell me your fantasy."

It's too much to ask. I can feel the tears leaking out of my eyes, which are squeezed shut, my pussy clenching around fresh air as juices flow from it onto the hard wood. I shake my head, dreading the unknown punishment for denying her.

"Tell me your fantasy." The words are demanding and uncompromising. It's not a choice. My throat is dry and I swallow hard, trying to force out the words.

"You..." I whisper the word, hesitate and lick my lips. "You put..." I can't. Her silence tells me she'll wait. I know I won't get out of this. I've never admitted to enjoying what she does to me except in the throws of pleasure or pain and now not only will I be admitting to that but also that I crave more. I take a deep breath, the words at the tip of my tongue but not willing to come out. She waits.

"." I rush the words and no longer able to stay in the humiliatingly exposing position she demanded my legs snap shut and I draw them up to my chest, barely fitting on the chair, as I reveal the rest of my fantasy; mumbling it in a way I doubt she could have even understood. "."

I'm full out sobbing into my arms now and if I could die from the degradation of it all I would, though it was matched by the relief I felt for doing as she ordered. I don't know what I expected to come of the confession but certainly not her kneeling before me and wrapping her arms around me. Certainly not her coaxing my teary, snotty face up from where it was hidden in my arms and placing kisses to my lips and jaws; my gasping for air preventing her from kissing me properly. I allowed myself to be tugged from the chair to the floor where she pulled me into her; wrapping her limbs around be as though to cocoon me within the safety she provided. Despite it all; despite the humiliation and pain that she had inflicted to bring me to this point, at that moment, for the first time, I felt truly fully accepted and loved.

I calmed down. I came back to myself...the self I was when I was with her. She must have felt the shift.

"When you're ready; get back into position on the chair." Her voice was different. Something had changed between us; but it was still an order. As I began to extract myself from her arms, I realised how different it felt to follow her order this time. I knew there was something beneath her coldness, and while it was still embarrassing, I no longer felt the same need to rebel and prove I was anything but what I was. I had begun to acknowledge the part of myself that craved this.

My finger brushed over my clit as I spread my lips wide again and I gasped at how sensitive it was; straining for attention, the arousal that was momentarily forgotten still very much present.

Quinn shifted to kneel between my knees. Placing her hands on my thighs she leant forward until she was mere inches away from my clit; her breath ghosting teasingly over it. She looked up to meet my gaze and I knew that though she was the one about to pleasure me, I was definitely still the submissive.

I was still holding myself as she turned her attention back to between my legs and without further ado sucked my clit into her mouth. Sucking and running her tongue over the engorged nub, she guided one of my hands to my entrance, encouraging two fingers inside. It didn't take long; a couple of minutes tops before I was coming, almost passing out from the waves of pleasure that crashed through me with the force of a tsunami. She continued sucking; coaxing out multiple orgasms, until I couldn't help but push her away; my body not able to take any more as I sank into the uncomfortably straight backrest.

I barely even noticed her standing; her running her fingers through my sweaty hair, as I recovered. I couldn't help the growing bubble of pride in my chest, nor relief the welled up in me. I would guess that this was what a painful but necessary breakthrough would feel like.

Eventually I opened my eyes; exhausted but sated, the embarrassment of everything still lingering in the background. My head tilted up to find her eyes.

"Get dressed." The words were not as hard as before, but they re-established our roles, and I immediately dropped her gaze, looking back at the floor as I knew was expected. I wanted to sit there for a bit longer, not quite ready to move, but I knew we were passed the portion of the afternoon where she momentarily ignored my disobeying her.

I managed to force myself to my feet; highly tempted to just crawl, and retrieved my clothes. "And after you've licked up the mess you made on my chair, come find me." She added, exiting without waiting for acknowledgment.

Redressing would normally have brought me back out of the submissive mind frame; brought the Santana the rest of the world knew to the fore and made everything that had happened become a part of my past, this time was different. This time rather than deny it, I had acknowledged that part of me. I knew it would take some time to fully process everything that had resulted from the supreme humiliation I had been put through, but it was a start.

I felt oddly proud that Quinn had left me alone and just trusted that I would do as she said. Obviously she would find out if I didn't, but the fact that she wasn't standing over me watching, meant something.

That still didn't mean I particularly relished getting down onto my knees and licking at the lines of juices I had left on the chair, while pointedly ignoring the renewed throbbing between my legsor the flush on my cheeks. Hoping to show how inexplicably grateful I was for what she had put me through I kept going until I was certain that every last trace of cum was removed; wanting please her.

Standing up I walked through the house, finding Quinn standing in the kitchen drinking a glass of water and looking out the back window pensively, an oblong box on the counter. Hearing me enter she turned around, and I quickly dropped my gaze to the floor.

"Look at me." I did. I can honestly say that I had never felt closer to another human being in my entire life. Don't get me wrong; she didn't know all my secrets; my past trials and hurts; but she accepted me. She was my friend and my Mistress, and she knew me.

"I want to give you something," She said, pulling me from my thoughts. "but I want you to think carefully before accepting."

I nodded, waiting anxiously as she opened it to reveal a silver necklace with a small oval pendant on it. The pendant was engraved with a elaborate, swirling pattern. She pushed it across the counter to me so I could examine it closer.

"I've never been one for those heavy leather collars." She explained, and I felt my breath catch "There's a 'Q' hidden in the design." I looked again, and after a moment was able to pick up the way some of the swirls twisted and joint into the letter. It was subtle and I probably would never have noticed if she hadn't picked it out.

"This won't mean that we're dating." She warned and I nodded, relieved. Despite the love between us the idea of dating Quinn was in no way appealing. It was not who we were or what our relationship was suited to. "We won't necessarily be exclusive and we won't be lovers. We will be us. We'll be friends, but I'll still be your mistress and you'll belong to me. If you accept this gift, then you are accepting that." She paused, probably trying to gauge my reaction while I seemed incapable of looking away from the gleaming silver disk. I don't know what my expression told her of the overwhelming emotions going through me right then because I certainly couldn't decipher them all. "You don't have to answer me today,"

I shook my head against needing more time, already knowing my answer. Taking the chain from the box I walked around the island so I stood before her and, taking a deep breath, offered her the chain. "I wish to accept your offer and I acknowledge you as my mistress."

For the first time, freely and without being pressed into it or fearing punishment for not doing so, I admitted her position to both of us. I could see the satisfaction and rightness I felt mirrored back to me in her face as she took the chain and fastened it around my neck.

She placed a kiss on my brow; almost, I felt, as a thank you for accepting, before taking a step back and ending the moment.

"We're done for the day." She said, her voice resorting to its 'business' tone and I knew I was dismissed. I was at the door to the kitchen when she called after me again, making me pause and my heart to simultaneously flutter with excitement and sink to my shoes.

"S, don't think I've forgotten about how you moved out of position without my permission earlier, and pushed me away from you. We will be dealing with that disobedience next time."

**-0-0-0-0-**

**AN2: **It's been so long since I wrote some proper SM type story so hopefully I'm not too rusty. Considering some of the things I've written (particularly those I've only posted on LJ), I don't know why I'm so nervous to post this fic, but I am. This one sort of ran away with me – my original idea was just Santana sitting in the chair, exposed and being made to say sordid things while Quinn just watched and denied her any release, and then everything else just happened. I would like to thank you for reading and hope you will leave me your thoughts in a review (or PM if you don't want your user name to show on the review list).


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